


Undertake The Multiverse

by Karmania



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Errortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Inktale (Undertale), Angst, Caring Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Creation, Destruction, Emotional Manipulation, Errortale Sans Needs a Hug (Undertale), FGoD, Forced God Of Destruction Errortale Sans (Undertale), Gen, Gods, Guardians - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inktale Sans Being an Idiot (Undertale), Multiverse, No beta we die like Ink's memory retention, Omega Timeline, Secrets, Undertale Multiverse, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmania/pseuds/Karmania
Summary: When Error finds the advantage he's been looking for for years, Ink and friends believe the final chapter of their story to be upon them.Yet, it seems that it is only the start of the mysteries unraveling. As the different players of the multiverse clash, age-old secrets are dragged to the surface, and a foe above them all stirs in the shadows and light alike.The question is: Will they be able to set aside their differences to triumph against this threat? Or will they clash and bring down the whole Multiverse with them?_____-•°x°•-_____This story centers mostly around a FGOD Error and Ink, but will have a gracious amount of time focused on the core Council, Blue, Cross, the bad Sans gang, some surprise characters, and of course Dream and Nightmare.
Relationships: Dream & Nightmare, Error & Blue, Error & Ink, dream & blue
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

  
The Doodlesphere was a vast and mysterious dimension.

All gentle warmth and bright amber colors, it felt incredibly peaceful.  
As the birthplace of worlds, it was likely older than anything else in the infinite multiverse, yet it maintained its charm and life, outside the reach of regular time and space. It had stayed unchanged for eons, except for where it had expanded its collection of priceless treasures over the years.

That was its purpose: As the centerpiece of the Multiverse, the Doodlesphere linked together all alternate universes in existence, whether known or unknown, old or new.  
There were none that could not be accessed from here.  
Before the deep and endless backdrop, there floated pages upon pages of paper. These were the gateways representing the Alternate Universes.  
Since neither ground nor sky existed in the Doodlesphere, the pages spread into every direction, so far that their silhouettes could be seen disappearing in the distance.

Each and every single one of these pages was a tightly woven piece of dimensional magic that connected to the very core of one AU each. The deceivingly simple forms reflected on their AU's state and nature, giving every paper a unique design, picture, or color, or even showing how damaged it was in the form of rips and burns and crinkled edges.

The gateways didn't _have_ to be pages, of course.  
They could be islands or paint buckets or even doors, yet oddly enough, the Doodlesphere seemed to prefer this setting.  
One could grasp the lives of millions in one hand, just by holding the very being of a world, folded down into one unassuming white square. Few would realize this unless told of the significance.

Most, if they ever were given the honor to visit, would instead pay attention to the ambient magic, heavy and thick.  
It tasted of possibilities and change, and laid like a silent charge in the air, humming just underneath the peaceful atmosphere.

Suddenly, a faint tinkling sounded through the hanging forest, disturbing the silence.  
Pages gently swayed as if dancing to the harmony. Something was... changing. Someone was here.

Only, it wasn't Ink.

Ink was the sole creator of this multiverse, and his magic connected to the sphere on an intrinsic level. It was his seat of power.  
Yet, the main occupant and guardian was all too often away on duty. He liked to bring worlds into existence in person and to protect those already there.  
A bit tragic, perhaps, for a place this vibrant to have no one around to appreciate it more, but it was practically impenetrable. Never had its location been compromised, so Ink felt safe leaving it.

Today, however, there was a guest. An _uninvited_ guest. Floating in place, head laid back to peer up into the tangle of pages, a black-boned skeleton had intruded upon the peace.  
He was not a mortal and his presence was immensely at odds with the surroundings. A jagged thorned weed among a field of flowers, a nagging discrepancy throwing off the picture of serenity. Not only visually, though his dark figure certainly contrasted starkly against the bright color scheme.  
No, there was a faint taste of violence and decay that followed him, which set the surrounding magic to churn in alarm. The skeleton felt like the ending to the beginning, death following life, the abrupt nothingness where there once was light and matter.

The god of destruction had found his way into the seat of creation itself.

And yet.  
He did none of the things expected of him, the foe that had outplayed his enemy. No victory laugh, no triumphant cheering or taunting, not even a grin. No _destruction_.

The god simply gazed upon the countless worlds that would have been so easy to rip apart with a twitch of his fingers and strings, and he remained still. His expression betrayed nothing, locked in a thoughtful frown.  
He hummed, a deep, shifting sound barely recognizable as such, and lifted a hand to one of the pages.  
The ordinary gesture belied the total and violent annihilation it could bring, but the god did nothing more than lightly caress the gateway, setting it to gently sway like a leaf caught in the wind.

A ghost of a smile lifted the god's mouth, and one could have perhaps called it 'happy'. Such an unfitting expression, considering the bright dimension he was in that was anathema to everything he stood for.

"...Soon," he said, and the promise sank like a stone in a river into the very being of the Doodlesphere, causing a slight ripple, as if the multiverse shuddered in anticipation of what was to come.

Turning away, like that was the only thing he'd come here to do, the skeleton opened a portal through which the empty whiteness of his own realm could be glimpsed. He stepped through, relieving the sphere of his dark presence. Leaving it unchanged, like he'd never been there at all.

That is, if it weren't for the multi-colored eyelights that had observed the god's exit, and the paint-soaked brush that slipped through shock-stilled fingers. The item fell slowly, flinging crimson ink everywhere and painting the scene, perhaps more appropriately, to look like the site of a violent murder.

All red.

"Oh no," Ink whispered.

The event of his greatest fear had come true.

Error had found the Doodlesphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Error belongs to LoverOfPiggies, Ink to Myebi, and the FGOD concept to harrish6.
> 
> Man, am I excited to post this here! I have been working on this story for far too long...


	2. Chapter 2

_Beep.  
Beep.  
Beeeeeeeeep._  
  
Blue struggled awake, groaning as only a sleep-deprived Sans could.

Clumsily, he pawed at the phone laying somewhere overhead and managed to silence the incessant alarm that had woken him from his dozing.   
Moving in slow motion, he abandoned the embrace of the too-comfy couch to plant both legs on the floorboards, snatched his phone, and grumbled indistinctly all the way to his sun-lit kitchen.

Though people would more readily compare him to a Papyrus, Blue was still a Sans at heart. And that meant that he liked to get in the appropriate hours of sleep. That was important for a monster to function, after all! Too bad that his job seemed determined to keep him from the sweet embrace of proper sleep.

He, rather lazily, forwent the more complicated filter coffee and instead went for the automatic machine where he only needed to push a button. While he waited, he checked his phone to confirm his suspicion.

Right at the top, over his usual notifications, the red sigil of the council was displayed. A four-point star inside two circles, done up in shades of crimson, flashing at him urgently.

This was the red alert. It meant that all core council members were being called in for an emergency meeting.   
And just as he'd managed to fall asleep on his couch after an all-night patrol, too!

Good thing Blue had his tried-and-true ace when it came to pulling double-shifts: scalding-hot coffee.   
He took the cup from the machine when it was filled, sipped, stuck his tongue out in disgust (tarry!), then downed the whole thing in one gulp.  
Making his way upstairs, he fumbled with his signature uniform (no, not the battle body) and changed into a more presentable spare one. He stumbled out of the door still half-lethargic, nearly forgetting to lock the house after himself.

The walk around his neighborhood was energizing, at least after the caffeine kicked in.   
It allowed him to be his usual peppy self by the time he reached the beating heart of Omega City, which was announced by buildings that got taller and more fanciful by the block. Here, futuristic technology mixed with the eccentric tastes of people from all walks of life. Holograms and magic were displayed in the streets, shining in the dappled light and shadows of the overarching vegetation. Flourishing plant life inhabited every roof here, and Blue could spot quite a few flyers resting in the branches of trees and special ledges built into the facades.

Rounding a corner, he found himself in one of the main streets. Here, he walked past cheerful shop fronts and well-maintained community buildings. Though he only got glimpses, he knew he wouldn't have to go far to find sprawling parks and plazas.

He smiled.

Omega City was a treasure he had learned to cherish. Added onto more and more, over the years what had once been just a few buildings put together by refugees had expanded into a big metropolis. He was so proud to be part of the group that had started it all: Proof that what he was doing was worth it.

A few monsters and humans pointed at him as he passed. Many waved at Blue, and more than once he was stopped by someone wanting to say hello or asking for an autograph. Regrettably, he often had to quickly excuse himself, he had a meeting to attend, after all.

Following the route he'd memorized by heart, he turned right at an intersection.  
His path led down a wide staircase into an underground subway system any normal city could only dream of: Wide, green, and spacious, it was easy to recognize that the architects had wanted only the best for their home.   
Blue checked in by scanning his universal-access card and let himself drift with the crowd onto the platform, where the trains were already waiting.  
As he stepped onto the one that would lead him to the council hall, sitting down on one of the plush seats by the window, he finally had some time to settle down and think.

In a way, he had already attained all he wanted to in life. As a member of the Star Sanses and by virtue of being one of the first Originals, he was famous and respected by many.   
People looked up to him!  
They admired his charm and accomplishments and told tales of his adventures and battles. There were even some stories written about him.  
It helped that he was seen as the most approachable of the trio, with Dream always so busy and Ink disappearing and reappearing as he pleased.   
Blue was, truly, the protector he had from childhood on dreamed of being.

He smiled at a tiny child Sans a few seat rows over, who was pointing at him in excitement. The Papyrus accompanying him hushed the child, throwing Blue a quick apologetic smile. The movement revealed him to be wearing an orange hoodie, marking him as a Swap Papyrus.

Blue calmly waved back, but internally he was cringing.  
Blue's own Papyrus would have been so irritated at the attention...

His mood dampened slightly. He didn't want to think about his brother right now. He was even more of a sore a subject than Error, who Blue would bet good G was the cause of today's meeting call.

Error...

Error was an almost mythical figure, also called 'Destroyer of Worlds'. He was an aberration of a skeleton, as insane as he was powerful. Which was to say, _very_.

He was also a difficult and _personal_ matter for Blue.

Error had been the one to introduce him to the multiverse, however unintentional.  
If it weren't for Error, Blue might have never gotten out of the cage the resets forced him in. Kidnapping Blue had not been nice, of course, but still, it forced him to open his eyes and see his world for what it truly was; a story caught in an endless loop repeating time after time.   
The idea of never even knowing - being a mere character at the mercy of the resets - was unthinkable now. So in a way, he was thankful. Now if only Error didn't come with a slew of other issues!

Sometimes he still wondered what would have happened had he stayed with the glitch. Would he have convinced the other that friendship wasn't so bad? That he didn't _have_ to live in self-enforced solitude?

That destroying wasn't a thing he had to do just to relieve the pain inside?

No. Those were useless questions. That opportunity had long passed. Error was a widely recognized enemy of all creation now, and perhaps the most despised monster in the multiverse. A crazed villain, a merciless killer, the cause of genocide multiple times over.

To consort with him was to consort with the evilest being in the multiverse.

Or at least, that was what popular word of mouth had you believe.

Blue had never been able to get rid of the nagging feeling that there was more to the destroyer than an obsessed murderer.   
But centuries of heated battles and clashes had surely eroded any chance Blue had of ever reaching out to him.

He really shouldn't dwell on hopeless dreams.

He sighed, leaning his skull against the cool window and watching the indistinct shapes in the underground darkness rush by.

Blue had half a mind to skip out on whatever the council would be planning in regards to Error. He wanted to, but he was too responsible for that. He was an integral part of the core group, people would panic if he wasn't there to help them!  
Not that they had, in all these years, _ever_ found a solution for Error that actually stuck. The sheer number of failed plans was honestly impressive. Error always averted them, either by being too strong, too paranoid, or plain too difficult to kill. That time he'd drank straight poison in front of an audience, only to be completely fine afterward, had been particularly memorable.

Blue felt the train decelerate, and was ready even before the bright opening of the tunnel made it obvious that he'd reached his destination.  
He waited at the doors until they opened, and stepped out into a wide lowered plaza, still teeming with people, yet much less crowded. Most council members didn't arrive by train like him, or indeed from the Omega Timeline at all.

Bounding up some shallow steps, the council building finally came into view.

It was a sprawling, gigantic complex, made from colored stone and wood and glass, with slanted roofs and square towers.  
The entrance was just as grand, huge open double doors through which people streamed in and out, and rows of trees leading up to the entrance.

The shade of the interior was a relief against the beating heat of the morning sun. Blue hurried through the lobby and along corridors and hallways (that he privately thought were unnecessarily long. Ink had been so excited about them, however, that no one had complained).

Here, people knew better than to keep Blue from the meeting even longer, and so interactions were restricted to brief 'helloes' and smiles.  
Finally, Blue arrived.  
The masked guards inspected him with only a cursory glance, and then he was let into the meeting hall. He was greeted by muted chatter and curious glances coming his way from those already seated. It looked like he really was somewhat late, unusual for him, but he wasn't the last to arrive either.  
Blue chose a path through the backspace of the columns, that way he could go around the gigantic round table in the middle without knocking into anyone.

It was easy to see that Ink had been inspired by both modern and gothic architecture at the time he'd been commissioned to paint this place. It was all straight lines framing flowing patterns in stone, leading up to a high, arched ceiling. Most prominent were the two rows of large columns lining the length of the hall and the huge colored glass windows that threw specks of rainbow light along the light grey marble floor, as well as the big table in the middle that could easily fit over fifty people, with a big chandelier hanging overhead.  
Blue thought it a bit pretentious, but very pretty nonetheless.

Once at the raised head of the table, he took the left-most seat. The right one was empty, as Dream wasn't there yet, and so he turned his full attention to his other closest friend who sat in the middle.

Ink was a deceptively diminutive skeleton, made distinctive by the signature ink stain on his jaw and the ever-changing eyelights.  
He dressed rather exotically for a Sans type, with a newer outfit he'd envisioned some years ago, consisting of airy, comfortable brown pants, a white undershirt, and a weirdly cut, brown overshirt with yellow edges.   
Slung across his chest was a sash adorned with glass vials of glowing paint in all the colors of the rainbow. Only Ink's most trusted friends knew the true purpose of those, the rest of the multiverse considered them a mystery.  
Ink's hands were protected by fingerless gloves, and to the affront of many a more proper monster he wore no shoes. Of course, the customary beige scarf had stayed. Ink would be hopelessly lost without it and the notes that were written on it. He used those to remember the important stuff.

His giant brush, nicknamed 'Broomie' and doubling as both weapon and art tool, was there as well, leaning against the table in arm's reach.

Usually, Ink was a font of enthusiasm and determined creativity. He was the god of it, after all, even if his unassuming form made many a new person doubt it.

Currently, however, the creator looked troubled. Slumped in his wooden throne as he was, he made the picture of the despairing ruler, nevermind the fact that he held no such position here at all. There was a furrow in his brow and frantic energy conveyed in his restless tapping on the seat rest.

More worrying, he hadn't even glanced up to greet Blue. He was fully sunk into whatever deep thoughts were chasing him this time. Out of the ordinary, especially for an easily distractable individual like Ink, who could forget what he was talking about mid-sentence.

Blue cleared his throat.

Ink startled, eyelights whirring between symbols as he wildly searched for the disturbance. They settled on a cyan star and an alarmed orange exclamation point when they found Blue.

"Oh, Blue!" Ink hastily sat up. "Have you been here long?"

Blue smiled. "No, I just arrived," he reassured his friend gently.

Ink deflated, and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Phew. I'm sorry I didn't see you then. I've just... been occupied."

"I hadn't noticed," Blue snarked, and was rewarded with a chuckle from the other. It teetered off quickly, though.  
Concern trickled down Blue's spine; his friend really must be awfully out of it to not react to the teasing more. Getting straight to the point would hopefully work at drawing him back. "Is this because of the emergency?"

Ink looked away and grimaced, folding his arms over his chest. "Yes. It's- not good news. Catastrophic news, really. And I would have insisted on everyone coming even sooner if it weren't so darn difficult to explain, too."

The heavy thud of the door interrupted any further private discussions, signaling the last arrival, which turned out to be Dream.   
The guardian hurried to his place on Ink's right and practically threw himself into the seat with a breathless "Hi!".

"You ok?" Ink asked.

"Of course. I'm alright!" Dream answered.  
Blue thought he didn't look alright. Heavy bags hung beneath Dream's golden eyes, even with an immortal's reduced need to sleep, and his clothes were in disarray like he'd sprinted here.

Blue was worried about him.

Ever since Dream had accepted the job as the main administrator of the Omega Timeline alongside Core Frisk, he'd been getting more and more harried.   
Blue suspected that Dream's tendency to put others first was getting in the way of taking proper care of himself, but each time Blue tried to bring it up, Dream hastily changed the subject.

Blue had respected his friend's space so far, but if it didn't get better soon he'd have to stage an intervention.

Else, something bad might happen. They couldn't go on like this forever.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard his creator friend shifting.

Ink stood up.

At once, every eye light in the room turned to him, and the idle conversations died. Though almost every monster here was a Sans, lazy and work-averse as can be, as Originals they knew their duty. If it concerned their home AU or their copies, or even neighboring AUs (and emergency meetings often did), then they were responsible for informing them of the danger.   
Such was the system put in place to govern the multiverse. At least as much as you could govern such an inherently chaotic thing.

"Thank you all for coming," Ink's voice echoed throughout the chamber.  
The unfamiliar formality immediately put everyone on edge. Ink normally avoided such 'boring drivel' if he could help it. Was the situation that serious?  
"I want you to know that this is not a prank or a lie. This is a matter that I would never dare to joke about."  
Ok, seemed like it _was_ that serious.

"Just a few hours ago, Error found the Doodlesphere."

Silence. Then, pandemonium. Blue felt faint.

Error in the Doodlesphere? The very thing that contained all the AUs in the Multiverse, ripe for the picking?

_Oh no._

_We are so doomed._   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow start, I will admit, but we need to set up a few things before we can truly get to the meat of the action. Hopefully the hints of the world I'm building up here entertained you still!


	3. Chapter 3

Nightmare leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The usually soothing quiet was suffocating. It sat heavily on his limbs, dragging them down with exhaustion.  
Numbers kept dancing across his vision, even in the darkness of his shut eyesockets.

_It's not enough. Steadily, slowly we are losing ground_.

In the privacy of his office, he allowed himself to vent his frustration by pushing back from his desk with force, his office chair rolling with him. He liked the drag of the motion, and he let himself spin around the room, opening his eyes to the swirling colors. He quickly lost momentum and halted, but Nightmare stayed unmoving, staring at his arched stone ceiling. The light of his candles, which he usually preferred so late at night, threw flickering shadows across the curved stone.  
Everything was falling apart lately.  
Creeping doubts haunted his every thought. They chased him no matter how much he distracted himself with work since even his paperwork only showed how bad off his gang was.

He chuckled bitterly as the thought that some higher authority must be enjoying his misery.

Nightmare abruptly straightened in his seat. He needed to shake his head free. He needed to stop acting so miserable! Being the lord of negativity didn't mean he had to let himself be consumed by it.

Managing their dwindling supplies was a very real problem, in contrast. One he should be working to fix right now, without unproductively _lamenting_ about it.

With the assistance from his tentacles, he smoothly rolled back towards his desk, splaying dark phalanges over the paperwork and taking up one of his fountain pens.

Soon, the silence was filled with the scratch of the tip on paper.

A thump and accompanying flare of pain eventually distracted him.

He stalled, senses stretched, but the hurt of whoever it was faded quickly, and was instead replaced with the muted emotions that indicated sleep. Most likely Horror had fallen off his bed again.   
Nightmare would have to make breakfast come morning. Horror was rather listless on days where he'd slept badly, and often didn't have the mind to worry about breakfast too. Nightmare felt inclined to relieve him of the obligation; uncharacteristic as that sounded, he liked his gang to be comfortable.

Hah.   
If anyone of the wider multiverse could hear his thoughts now, they would likely have an aneurism at the sheer 'impossibility'.

Nightmare, feared Lord of Negativity, Bane of Dreams and Hopes, actually caring for others beside himself, or his thirst to conquer? Impossible.

He knew how people talked. He knew what the council thought he was doing. How supposedly, he was manipulating the skeletons around him to obey him mindlessly. Corrupting their very thoughts and souls.

Perhaps, once upon a time, they would have been right.

In the early days, when he'd picked up stray after stray, he'd been downright sadistic when dealing with his gang. Pressing upon every weakness until it bled, twisting metaphorical and literal knives until they broke under his ruling.

As callous as it sounded, he'd indeed chosen them because they were the perfect targets. Though it wasn't like they had fallen under him just like that, either. There had been plenty of clashes.

Nightmare absently drew his papers nearer and wrote out calculations, the near mindless task pulling him into deeper thoughts.  
His gang had gone with him because he had offered a way out of their respective situations. They had entered a deal with him fully knowing of the consequences, had used him as much as he had used them.

A ragtag company of barely controlled addicts for blood and dust, held together by the thinnest thread of power and command.

And yet...

Nightmare stared at the pages, no longer registering the actual contents. His mind was far away. There was a warmth curling underneath the worry in his chest.

And yet, they had grown into something more. Something none of them had ever thought possible to gain again (not that he'd had the bravery to admit it at first).  
  
Only after surviving a particularly disastrous mission, where the gang had all narrowly escaped death, had that changed. Nightmare had been furious - not with them, he'd been forced to admit, but with himself. For not protecting them better, for treating them as the disposable pawns they'd long ceased to be.  
He'd sworn then and there; to treat them better, to care for them as he should have.

Nightmare realized he had built himself a family, intentional or not.

After all this time roaming alone, wreaking havoc from the front lines and shadows alike, he'd settled, among skeletons that had come to see _him_ as family, too. It was more than he deserved, really, especially with his previous behavior. But he couldn't bring himself to regret the actions that had led him to this point.

And he did care for them. He really did.  
He helped Dust distinguish between reality and delusion. He made it clear to Horror that as long as he lived, there would always be food on the table. For Killer, he took away most of the hate and corruption that so plagued his soul, though he couldn't fix what had been permanently damaged. Cross was perhaps the easiest since Nightmare just had to _be there_ for him. Not leaving and vanishing or dying.

...

Nightmare should have known it couldn't last.

Change was a constant, and as much as he liked to believe himself above the mortals, he was still subject to the whims of fate.

Another thud distracted him, and this time the accompanying mind didn't go back to sleep. Nightmare felt their restless agitation and simmering fury, a blend belonging only to one particular person here.

The presence lingered a few minutes in their room, before descending to the second floor, where the training halls were.

A quick peek through the shadows confirmed his suspicions.

A gangly youth, caught in the awkward teenage stage of too-lanky limbs and not enough mass to fill them out, was busying himself conjuring knives and tearing apart the training dummies. His snow-white hair was already drenched with sweat.

X-tale!Chara, called CC for convenience, was working off his anger. Again.

Nightmare still didn't really know how to feel about him.

On one hand, CC could never replace what had been lost. Resentment over that was festering in his soul.

On the other hand, Nightmare supposed he should be thankful. Or... relieved, rather. For what he'd done for Cross.

... 

In an unprecedented loss of control, Nightmare crushed the pen in his grip. Wet ink splattered everywhere, staining the words and calculations he'd spent the last hours painstakingly writing.

He growled. Fine! He didn't care!

He knew the numbers by soul anyway.

Deciding that he wasn't about to get anything more done tonight anyway, Nightmare stood up. He straightened the papers for later perusal, letting the ink evaporate from his hands with a little will and magic, then stepped through the shadows into the training hall.

Might as well do _something_ productive.

This room, in contrast to his darkened office, was brightly lit.   
Mats covered the floor and walls of one side, meant to cushion impacts when practicing hands-on combat (blaster usage was reserved for the fields outside). The other half was bare, safe for target practice set-up.

This was where he found CC. He was currently, by the looks of it, venting his frustration quite excessively: The dummy he was assaulting with his knives certainly looked like it had seen better days. Even with the high-level self-repair spell that Nightmare had put on it.

"One could think you had a grudge against these."

CC startled, most likely having sunk too deep into his rage to notice Nightmare's arrival. The red thrumming knife in his hand vanished as he straightened out to greet his boss, red and purple eyes cast downwards.  
"Sorry, I didn't notice you. I'll be more careful."

Nightmare hummed in acceptance, eyeing the teenager in body only. The almost-human was so oddly respectful towards him. Uncharacteristic given his history with authority figures. Then again; perhaps he still saw Nightmare as a threat, someone to tread lightly around. He hadn't spent nearly as much time with the human as the rest of the gang, after all.

Nightmare decided that a spar would help both of them.  
It would serve a two-fold purpose:   
An opportunity to gauge his subordinate's state of mind, and as a distraction. Plain and simple. Nightmare was at least self-aware enough to admit that he was worrying in excess.

He needed to forget, even if just for a little while.

He moved to the center of the mat-covered half, cracking his neck (entirely for show. Being made of goop was good for never getting strains or other such ailments, at least). He summoned the rest of his usual four tentacles, two poised over his shoulders and on two either side at chest height respectively.

"Indulge me, I could use a little sparring practice" he requested. CC eyed him but nodded and trotted over. The teen shook out his arms, bounced a few times on the spot, then dropped into a battle-ready stance.  
"Three out of three, no lethal takedowns, no stakes," Nightmare stated and waited just long enough for CC to confirm before rushing forward.   
There would be no countdown from their enemies on the battlefield, so he didn't exactly see the purpose of the courtesy.

His tentacles extended lightning-quick, stabbing downwards, and CC dodged nimbly, balancing arm swinging outwards and conjuring red blades in a semi-circle.  
Nightmare stayed unfazed as they began rotating quickly before shooting out with precision, in time with CC's retreating steps. His liquid state allowed him to flow around the magic projectiles.  
  
Knives were nothing new, as Cross had wielded them often enough, even with his preference for that ridiculously big blade of his. Nightmare knew how to counter these.  
A bit unusual, however, was the force of the magical slashes that followed. They were powerful, certainly, but CC was overextending himself with his effort.  
"How sloppy," Nightmare commented derisively, as he used the opening to get close enough to deliver a broadside slap with one of his tentacles. It caught CC in an arm he barely brought up in time, and the human was pushed back and off-balance. Nightmare gave no breathing room, as he followed up with another tentacle. 

CC recovered remarkably quickly, manifesting a shield that held up much better against the assault. A red flash, and this time it was a sword in his right hand. The longer reach put the human at a sudden advantage, as it forced Nightmare to retreat, lest he be skewered. His one extended tentacle wasn't so lucky, but the hot flare as it was severed barely registered. They weren't true limbs, after all, just liquid negativity. He easily replaced it with another one.

During a short pause in their battle, Nightmare considered his opponent's style.  
CC was evidently much more comfortable with close-range fighting. Yet, he was experienced enough to figure out that it was a bad idea to let Nightmare get anywhere near himself. CC started up his knife barrage once more, trying to corral Nightmare into a corner.

Nightmare had no intentions of letting himself get pinned, but he found it amusing enough to pretend he did.

At the last second, where CC had him dead to rights, he let himself dissolve into shadows.

It was always an interesting experience. The realm of shadows was... limiting. The only thing that truly mattered was light and _not-light_ , objects and people were solely defined by what light they blocked, and his senses narrowed down to a vague feeling of self and position. He'd done it often enough to not get lost, however. With pinpoint accuracy, he found a shadowed corner of the hall ceiling and emerged clinging to the wall light some kind of oily black spider.   
Silently he observed CC, who was looking around carefully, not letting down his guard. Nightmare approved. Now, to see if he stood up to the test...

Descending from above CC, who looked up and _just_ managed to roll out of the way, Nightmare's impact tore through the mat and shattered the stone below.

"...How unsightly." He commented casually, while CC stared horrified at the stone fragments and stuffing, most likely consumed by a vision of what would have happened had he not dodged in time.

"...I thought you said no lethal measures?" he said somewhat weakly.

"I did?" Nightmare hummed. "You honestly expected me to hold to that?"  
" _You_ proposed the rules!" There was that anger! Good to see that CC wasn't _too_ intimidated by him.  
Nightmare scoffed. "Hrmph. As a member of those the multiverse deems 'evil', no one will give you _fair_. Honor in combat is a notion for naive idiots and those that can afford to be soft. Besides, if I truly went after you with the intent to kill... _Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now._ "

CC snarled. "I know. I'm not _dumb_."  
  
They moved again to the center of the mats, and almost simultaneously, sprang towards each other. CC used his shield to ram through the tangle of Nightmare's tentacles, actually pushing him back. Not to be outdone, Nightmare reached towards the nearest limb with his claws, barely brushing CC's left hand.   
The human's glove immediately hissed and bubbled, blackening, and CC quickly ripped it off.   
Nightmare used his distraction to maneuver a tendril around the shield, pressing the tip against CC's throat.  
For a moment, CC looked furious enough to move despite the threat, then he forcefully relaxed.  
"Alright, you win. But the last one, I'll defeat you, Goopy!"  
  
Nightmare smiled indulgently - smirked, more like - and again they found themselves facing each other.  
This time, CC retreated quickly under the force of Nightmare's assault, and Nightmare sensed the other's magic, rising and coiling but not yet conjuring anything. Seemed like CC had something planned. Cautious but still with overwhelming power, he pursued the slippery human.   
Strike after strike found his tentacles burrowing into nothing but the now tattered mats. Slowly but surely, he was turning CC's own strategy against him, backing him into a corner; the human would have to act soon if he didn't want to lose.  
  
And act he did: Pressing magic into the ground, CC let glowing spears shoot up to force Nightmare back.   
A hail of red-purple blades formed above, and Nightmare tensed in preparation. Then CC raised his hand - and summoned a glowing purple button.   
The sight of it distracted Nightmare just enough, and he felt quite a few of the blades nick him as they rained down, even if they did practically nothing against his goop. He jerked back-  
The next thing he knew, there was a blade hovering at his throat.   
Shocked, he glanced up to meet CC's eyes, which glimmered with determination and euphoria. Nightmare could taste his elation, a sharp contrast to his earlier despair.  
Only for a moment, though. Then CC realized what he'd done, and hastily retracted, then vanished the blade. He stood stock-still, staring at Nightmare, likely anticipating some form of punishment. 

Nightmare considered his subordinate, watching him squirm, before turning around and walking out the hall. 

Behind him, he could sense the human's bewilderment, apprehension - and relief.

"What? Hey!" He heard quick footsteps catching up to him. "I thought we were sparring!"  
  
"Hmm," Nightmare hummed. "I got what I came here for."  
  
More apprehension. "And what was that?"  
  
"Checking up on my subordinate."  
Clearly not expected that, CC blinked, falling a bit behind, before hurrying after Nightmare, who had now entered the kitchen. He flipped a switch, and bright lights illuminated the room.  
  
It was a big modern kitchen, all gleaming stone counters, multiple stoves and ovens, and chrome kitchen appliances. Perhaps even a bit too big, considering how few people actually lived in the castle, but Horror certainly loved it. And there was enough place for a table, so one could eat here instead of walking all the way to the dining hall.  
  
Opening the fridge, Nightmare surveyed the contents. They were running a bit low on everything, he would have to plan a supply trip soon. With a human in their midst, they would also have to balance their diet to be more nutritional. Humans were a bit more vulnerable to their bodies' needs than monsters after all.

Carefully he took out eggs, milk, salt, and flour from the cabinets, his tentacles assisting. He felt CC hovering nearby, but paid him no mind other than instructing him to "set the table."  
  
Instead, he focused on how empty the pantry actually was - though food wasn't the only thing they were currently low on.

They were also missing important supplies like healing items and general products. They really should be doing another supply raid - but Nightmare was reluctant to send anyone out in the current situation. 

Error had been gone for months now without any sign of life other than the occasionally destroyed universe. Far too few to oppose Ink's maniac creation sprees, so lately the balance had been tipping. The council had gotten very confident, and there were more patrols combing through AUs than ever.  
  
Error being so absent was unusual these days, and worse, Nightmare wasn't able to contact him at all.

Whereas Error would check in once in a while normally, he'd failed to meet up with either Nightmare or any of their few allies in months now. Since the thing with Cross, even. Nightmare couldn't track him down, what with the firewalls that Error had erected against emotional sensing.

It made it clear that Error didn't want to be found, which was almost more worrying than if he'd gone simply missing instead. Nightmare was helplessly worried that the destroyer was planning something suicidally reckless.

And with Error gone, the gang didn't even have their most intimidating force behind them to assure their success on more dangerous missions.

And now they were practically down one more member.

While CC could believably pull off an impression of Killer, it was only a matter of time until the deception was noticed. So soon after publically losing Cross, their enemies would descend on their obvious weakness like vultures.

Especially the Star Sanses and their accursed council, with the full might of the Omega Timeline behind them. Nightmare's brother and his friends might actually stand a chance of defeating Nightmare and his gang... and with Error out of the picture, they didn't even have a backup in the worst-case scenario. Nightmare didn't fancy those odds.

"You're worried," CC startled him out of his brooding. Nightmare glanced at him, then at the dough he had been stirring for perhaps a bit too long. He set the bowl down, embarrassed to be caught out so easily.

"We are not in the best of positions, now. We need to prepare for trouble," he admitted. CC looked at him, surprised. Then, resolve, and a surprising amount of care mixed into his emotions. CC smiled at Nightmare, small but genuine.  
  
"Whatever they will throw at us, we can handle. Don't tell me you're giving up, octopus!"

"Hardly," Nightmare scoffed.  
  
But he couldn't help the feeling that there was something bigger brewing in the multiverse. And he had no idea how it would affect them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare belongs to Joku, X-tale and all it's characters to Jakei95/Jael Peñaloza.
> 
> Nightmare is tired. What else is new?  
> So yeah, one big thing I'm changing: Why is CC here but not Cross? What happened to him? Guess you'll have to read to find out...  
> Error is coming soon, don't worry! Either the next chapter or the one after that.
> 
> I hope you liked this, and if you did, please comment! Comments fuel a writer's brain.


	4. Chapter 4

_Are you really going to do this?_

_..._

_You don't even know if it's going to work._

**_What choice do I have?_ **

_You have plenty. You can abandon this path. Stay like this. Endure._

...

_Though I feel like a hypocrite even suggesting that. Heh.  
_

**_I couldn't do that. I've already_ ** **endured** **_far too long. I'm tired of it!_ **

_Chasing after someone you despise with all your soul... it's not going to end well. Such unending hate is only going to destroy you. It rots you from the inside out, blinds you until all you can see is that obsession, that need to see them brought low._   
_I wouldn't want that for you. None of us would._

**_As if I am not ruined already._ **

_...I know. But I did the same, and now look at me._  
 _I pursued my revenge relentlessly, and what did it get me in the end? I'm so far from all those I've ever loved._  
 _Too bitter to ever accept their embrace, too_ stuck _in my hate and my self-made infamy to ever come back to them._

**_But_ ** _**he** _ **_isn't around anymore, is he?_ ** **_They are finally free._ **

_..._

**_For everyone. For myself._ **

**_I have to at least try._ **

____-__-(\°/)-__-____

Error floated, hidden, above the group.

It was hilarious how they thought they could hide from him beneath a few layered illusions and a magic dampening field.   
Their pathetic efforts wouldn't hamper him and his plans in the slightest.

Error was no mortal. He was no ordinary skeleton perceiving the world in a mosaic of magic and souls. He saw beneath what was, into the building blocks of reality itself, into the very code that governed everything in existence. It allowed him to perceive concepts and connections no one else was aware of, and to that special sense, the group's presence was like a giant red flag shouting 'look at me!'.

He chuckled lowly to himself. He felt giddy with anticipation, his magic humming restlessly in his bones.   
It was even more perfect than he could have imagined. Ink would have to protect both his allies and the Doodlesphere, which would give error all the more opportunity to enact his plan.

Grinning like a cat about to pounce on the canary, he conjured a tiny red fingerbone, a raindrop compared to the ocean he was about to unleash, and let it plummet. It fell onto the wide platform Ink must have drawn up for his friends, vanishing as soon as it impacted the ground but producing a satisfying 'thunk' nonetheless.  
It certainly did its job. He observed the monsters of the group move in a frenzy, trying to figure out if they were under attack or not. It didn't take long at all before a trail of black ink manifested mid-air, expanding and solidifying into a familiar shape.

Ink, the accursed god of creation. Error's fated counterpart and enemy of eons had arrived to protect the little sheep and his precious worlds from the big bad wolf.  
Too bad that _they_ weren't the target.

Error breathed out deeply. This was what he'd worked towards so hard for the last months. It was all or nothing, and if he played this right, either way, he would finally achieve what he'd longed for all these eons.

_Freedom._

What kind? Well, he'd just have to plunge in and find out.

He breathed in one last time, then _moved_.

In an overwhelming show of power, Error summoned a field of sharpened bone spears and sent them point-downwards towards the oblivious monsters below. He could faintly make out Ink's head snapping up, hear him cry a desperate warning before the deadly rain made impact.

Error hung back, to observe the aftermath of his first attack.

At first, he couldn't tell if he had dusted someone or not, then he saw the group, whole and uninjured, moved somewhere further back and out of the attack radius. Ink was closer, however, and _oh_ , did he look _furious_.

" _Error!_ " The sheer hate in that one word, that one name, was a warning. A promise of unending pain to be delivered.

But it was far too late to give up now. And pain had stopped working as a discouragement to Error long ago.

The god tugged a row of blasters into existence, their whining charge-up flanking him to either side. Ink reacted fast, throwing up a thick wall to shield against the devastating energy beams. Error, having anticipated that, teleported beyond it, even if the magic of the Doodlespehere fought him on that and made the move sluggish. He powered through, landing in the heart of the little helper group. Immediately he had to dodge a blue attack and block a bone club, though they had no hope of keeping up with him for real. One dual-wielding fighter came awfully close though, and at this distance, Error recognized sharp cyan eye lights and gleaming armor.  
His mangled soul twinged when he realized that Blue was also here.  
However, even that would not deter him.   
He leaned to the side to avoid some strange humming chains, pinning them to the ground with bones through their links. He smirked when he realized that no one had managed to land a hit on him yet.  
"What are you doing?" someone yelled in the crowd.  
"He isn't reacting like we thought!"  
Error paid the commentary no mind and sent out a wave of bones in a circle surrounding himself, forcing the group to scatter lest they be impaled. He watched them scramble, incredibly uncoordinated. Unfortunately, Error was a bit too tense to mock them over it as he usually would have.   
This would be one of, if not _the_ most important fight of his unfortunate lifetime. There was no time for gloating.  
Error looked up just in time to see Ink flying at him, eyes lightless and expression twisted into a fanged grimace. Looked like Ink was equally as serious.

Good.

Error swiped his fingers over his cheeks until they caught on glowing blue threads, in a movement that had been repeated so many times it was effortless.

The supernaturally durable strings shot to the side, swift and precise as bullets. They latched onto a stray bone lodged into the ground and launched Error out of the way of Ink's incoming wave of paint. The creator landed on the ground where Error had just stood right after it, sliding ankle-deep in the resulting puddle.  
Before Error could even think of taking advantage of Ink's miss, another hail of bone attacks from the group distracted him, forcing him on the defensive.   
Ink recovered, joining in with snakes of teal paint circling around Error, cutting off his escape routes, quickly winding tighter.  
Another teleport put Error above them all again, and he pulled strings after strings from his eye sockets, uncaring of the increased burning. The blue threads shot everywhere, spearing the ground and catching a few unfortunate souls - literally.  
The monsters whose souls he had caught immediately fell under his control, and Error felt the press of their consciousnesses beneath his own.  
A simple mental command and they went after their former allies instead, armed with blue strings to hopefully ensnare even more. He ignored their panicked, despairing thoughts beating like fearful hearts against his control, instead focusing wholesale on Ink, who was frozen, stunned into stillness.

Error knew he had stopped playing this card long ago, but really, Ink shouldn't have been _that_ surprised. It wasn't like he'd lost the ability, he'd just decided that he wouldn't use it anymore. Or rather, had been _convinced_ not to. Ink was an idiot for ignoring how any ally in a fight against Error could so easily become an enemy.  
If they had a soul, that is.

Perhaps Ink hadn't realized the stakes of this yet, after all.

_He'd just have to remind him!_

Error had all the puppets abandon their targets to concentrate their firepower on the creator.

Ink finally snapped out of it in the face of dozens of blasters already charging their deadly lasers in his direction.  
With speed betraying the fact that he was, in fact, also a god, Ink conjured bone platforms he used to hop upwards, joining Error up on high. A twirl of his brush flung inkblots everywhere, which turned into a swarm of ravens that dove after Error's strings.

That was fine. He'd already gotten Ink where he wanted him; alone and away from his distracted allies.

Now came the main event.

With an inward sweeping motion of Error's hands, dozens of new strings revealed themselves. This time, they were not connected to souls but strung between the oh-so-vulnerable papers that represented the AUs.

Horrified, Ink slowed in whatever he'd been doing, which gave Error the opportunity to take the next step:

Those same volatile strings threatening the AUs twisted, writhing erratically in great loops, and lightning-quick tied themselves around the creator's limbs just as he tried to cut them.  
Ink was caught off-guard and automatically struggled, but cried out in horror when that movement almost tore a page in two.  
Panting, Ink fell limp, his glare a smoldering red that left Error twitching instinctually as he met it head-on.

His expression, well... he wouldn't grace it with much of a description.

Seldom had he seen the other so _hateful_.

Error pressed on nonetheless, summoning a single sharpened bone.   
He didn't leave it at that, oh no.   
Normally, a conjured attack was called into existence and that was it, a monster deployed it and it either hit something or not. Error, however, used the inherent connection left to it, normally used to decide directions, to pour more and more power into the magical construct. He filled it until it overflowed, and then beyond. The bone started glitching at first, then vibrating in his hand with barely suppressed energy. Faint shrieking started up where it rent the air with sheer destructive power.

Approaching Ink, he relished the widening of his eyes, the faint trembling, the taste of turnabout and revenge for all the times he'd been in the creator's position. Bound and unable to act, lest all he cared about may perish.

Perhaps it was petty. Most certainly it was aimed against the wrong person.

But Ink was the connection he needed, and he had always been the face substituted on the real tormentor behind Error's suffering.

"You're going to regret this," Ink choked out.

"Oh, on the contrary..."   
Error came ever closer. "This is all I ever wanted."   
And with that, Error raised the attack, conviction stilling his shaky hands. Ink, the foolish self-made hero that he was, held himself as proudly as he could manage while still bound, probably determined to face his end with dignity. His gaze found Error's again, and Error could only give one last dead-eyed smile. Faintly he heard the cries of Ink's allies, too far and too weak to prevent what was about to transpire.

The bone came down with the finality of a reaper's scythe.

And halted.

Centimeters away from touching the creator's chest.

Error looked at the bone, brought to a tremblings standstill so close to ending Ink's life... and _laughed_.

He had not been the one to stop it.

"Figures! Figures you wouldn't _actually_ let me hurt your favorite child!"

Stepping back, bone still in hand, he grinned manically. Ink watched, perplexed, as Error began circling him.

"Oh, I know you are here. You wouldn't abandon you dearest creation to death, of course not. Especially not against _me_."

"I don't have... a favorite creation..."

Error spared Ink a dismissive glance.

"I'm not talking to _you_ , Ink stain."

He sneered.   
  
"I'm talking to the _bitch_ that runs the whole operation. Yeah, that's right! You heard me!"

Ink tensed again as the bone was once again set upon his chest, though it halted once more before it could actually touch him. He looked from the certain death sentence to Error, who watched in anticipation.  
  
"You're delusional," Ink spat.  
  
"On the contrary, this is the most lucid I have been in decades, Inkstain. Don't you wonder why I've chosen now of all times to attack this place?"  
  
"Because you've found it and couldn't pass the opportunity for destruction. I know your game."  
  
Error laughed. "Oh no, you don't know the game! You don't know the game at all. You don't even know the _rules_. Or who is actually playing."  
  
"You're making no sense!"  
  
"To you, maybe. But the one listening... she sure knows what I'm talking about."  
  
Ink growled in frustration. Error could almost see his mind flashing through the options available to him. Escape was impossible. Even dissolving into ink would tug at the strings enough to destroy dozens of AU pages at least, which Ink found out first-hand when he tried. His liquidizing leg dragged at some blue threads and a handful of AUs ripped at once.  
Screaming at the wave of agony, Ink abandoned that attempt, expression pinched as he rode it out.  
When he looked at Error again, it was with barely disguised apprehension.  
That's right, this time it was Error who held all the cards!  
  
Ink decided to talk again. Likely trying to reason with the destroyer, not that Error thought much of the paltry effort. He'd heard enough of Ink's speeches over the years.

"Error... I know we had our differences over the years... but we can talk about this. Just... just you and me. There's no coming back from this! No second chances. You destroy the multiverse, and you won't have anything! No one who would ever care for you, talk with you, be there for you. Do you really want that? Do you really want to be alone, forever?"  
  
Error stared, the bone lowering. This was new. Ink hadn't tried appealing to his desire for company in ages.   
Ink evidently took the action as encouragement that he was on the right path, for he frantically said: "I will help you! Error, I don't care what it takes, I will find a way for you to get better! You're not alone in this!"  
  
Error felt... he didn't know how to feel. Bitter, perhaps. Outraged _.  
Now_ Ink was saying this? After all the times he'd refused to listen, the times he'd disregarded any of Error's sneaky attempts to pass on the truth?  
The attack now inert at his side, Error looked down at Ink impassively, though inside his mind was churning.  
  
"Do you promise?" he asked blankly.  
"Yes! Yes, I promise! Error, please, I will do everything. For you."  
  
Logically Error knew he could ask for anything from Ink right now, and the artist would grant it. But he couldn't help but hope-

NO.  
  
No, he'd already chosen this path. Ink was a _liar_ , through intention or through forgetfulness. His words were sweet but ultimately empty.  
  
"Nice try," he said bitterly and raised the attack again.

Just then, a rumble traveled through the Doodlesphere, more powerful even than the one caused by Error stepping into it.  
  
Error stumbled and stared as a crack of light manifested mid-air. "What's going on?" Ink asked frantically.

Dense, heavy magic of a different kind flooded the area, and distantly Error registered all the souls still in his control lose consciousness. Mortals weren't meant to take that kind of pressure.

Space twisted and rent, as S̸̪̎͒͆ờ̵̢̡͍̬̬̭͕̖̜̮̽̏͂̈́̎͛̒̓̚̕͜͜m̷̢̥̩̟͒̅͂̔͛́̎̀e̷̡̢͙̱͍̯͙̝̹̬͚͓̗̙͂͑̑̎̽̕̕̕ṭ̷͇͙̃̓͗͘ẖ̵̛̻̜͓̼̓̈́̊͌͒̅͒̄͒̿̈́̑̚͠i̴̡̨̭̺͉͊͊͛̏̄͝n̸͓̰̩͔̲̩̖̪̻͔͔͈̽̈̾͋̊͊̈́͠ͅg̶̡̢̱̟͈̼̦̗̪̼̯̜̪̊̃̍̐͜ pushed through.

  
Ink froze, likely sensing it, and Error took the opportunity to knock him out. No chance of him interfering that way.  
  
Slowly but surely, the T̶͚̜̲́̽̔͐͘̚͘ḩ̶͚̼͍͚̖̦̗̏̇̿͆̈́̈́̈́̐́͜i̷̠̹͎̙͓̠͈̗̣͒̒̀̾̓͘͠ṇ̶̭̞̩̥͆͗̅͐̋̑̍̚ͅg̵̛̼̻̝̗͒̾̓͆̀̈̕͠ came through, glowing white limbs, almost alien in their proportions, grasping into reality. Error thought he recognized something like wings and hands, but he couldn't be sure, it was simply too different to make sense of. Something barely adhering to the rules of mortal beings. A sign that this was the true form he'd been seeking.

The realization that this was real hit Error.  
This was it. This was finally it! His breathing picked up, in excitement or fear he did not know. He wanted to crow in victory, he wanted to cower in terror, he wanted to turn back immedeately and abandon it all.  
  
But no, he had come so _far_!  
  
He spared a brief thought to the consequences.  
Towards what would happen to his tiny collection of people who cared: Nightmare and his gang. That pesky 'family' of his.

In a way, he was doing this for them, too. They would no longer be caught in the web that was _her_ game, _her_ entertainment.

Though he wouldn't kid himself. This was mostly for himself.

 _Because he just couldn't take it anymore.  
  
_ The T̶̻̯̾̀͐̎̅̏h̴̢̗͉̪̪̅ͅi̴͉͇͠n̸͙̠͉̝͕̓̕g̸̨̡̡̹̫̲̯̎̊̿̈́̽͘͝͝ had no discernible eyes, but he felt it, _her_ , look at him as she stepped into the Doodlesphere fully. Anger spilled from her form like water, flooded the atmosphere around them. He almost wished for Ink to still be conscious, just to take that overwhelmingly intense _focus_ off of himself.  
  
"H̷̡͎̬̗̳̯̿͑̏̈̔̂̍̈́ơ̸̲̈́͗̌͑͛w̷̝͔̤̠͓̼̠͎̌̎̐̎͛̚͝ ̶̨͕͇̤͔̥̰͈̎̎͂͊̃̎̿̋d̶̼̥̪̮͉̀͒ͅå̴̹̙̜͈̌r̴̡̬͝ę̸͇̫̼̤̝̱̓ ̷̪̠̗̙̪̲͝͠y̶̻̫̤̬̱̪̻͒͗̌͗ǫ̸̭̮͓͚̮̇͂̄͘̕u̷̮͓͈͋̂.̵̥͐̅.̸̩̙̺̺̳͍̻͌̅͌̈́̍̌.̶̬̬̦̦̬̪͙̝̒͝͝ ̶̖̗͍̫̫̘̓͌͘f̵͍̐̑ǐ̷̱̳̺͔͎̋̈́̈́ļ̷͈̘̣͎̈́̍̅̈́̚̕t̴̩͌̔͗h̷̺͋̓̂̀͌͗̚y̸̘̙̻̰̟̭̫͔̮͗̅ ̶̯̍̇̌͘l̴̡̦̮̈́̏̄͑͒̉o̷̫̠̊̽̉̒̍͘͠w̴͓͍͑͛̇͘͝l̶̞͓̗̿̾̆̾̎͜͜y̸̢͉̥̦̗͗̃̊̍̈́̃̓̿͜ ̶̯̻̩̗͋̾̐͐̓͌͠ḇ̶̅͒u̶͓̯̳̩̘͊̂͒͗͛̊͐̚g̴͆̃̔̕͜.̴̤̻͐̈̾͂͝"  
  
Oh yes, how dare he!  
  
He gathered himself. Reminded himself.  
  
 _All or nothing.  
_  
Error smirked and met the being's furious gaze with his own. _  
  
_How dare _she.  
_

"Hello, Fate. _Long time no see_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes the set up for what is going to go down in this fic! What's happening with Fate? Shhh...
> 
> If you liked this, please comment!


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